“Then why did you run?” asked the Fir-Noy.

What a stupid question. “It’s hard to tell,” said Talen. “I’m usually quite solid when facing a charge of Mokaddian villagers.”

Of course, stupidity was bred into the Fir-Noy. Their clan was forever trying to stir all the others up to push the Koramites into the sea. It was probably this man who started this whole thing.

Sabin clopped Talen on the head and sent him reeling to his knees. “Respect your betters.”

Talen steadied himself and stood again. The right side of his rib cage pained him. He took in a large breath, expecting to feel the sharp pain of a broken bone. There was a twinge, but it didn’t feel like it came from a break.

He looked at the bailiff. “I’m sorry, Zu. Let me restate.”

“No,” said the bailiff. “There’s no need to restate.” His face was full of a pent-up anger. “There soon won’t be any chickens, Talen. There will be nothing for you Koramites. You squander opportunity after opportunity, your race. You can’t keep yourselves clean, can you?”

“Zu,” said Talen. “All I did was come for layers. And these men, without provocation, set upon me.”

“You ought to press him,” the Fir-Noy suggested. “Who knows how wide their network is? And think about it. I’m told this skinny thing is a half-breed. But not just any old mongrel. This one’s connected to high places, given special treatment. I’m told Argoth is going to adopt him into his family and give him a chance to earn the wrist of a Shoka man.” He spat at Talen’s feet. “This one can walk about and spy without being given a second glance.”

It was true Uncle Argoth and Da had recently talked about marrying Talen to a Mokaddian. It wasn’t necessary for him to be adopted into a Mokaddian family to do so. But it would smooth the process. However, there were some Shoka who thought it a scandal. Even among the Shoka of Stag Home there were still a few who still wondered how Talen’s mother, a Mokaddian of some station, could willingly debase herself and foul her offspring by marrying and mating Da, a full Koramite. There were those who saw her untimely death as a confirmation of that poor choice. Nevertheless, Uncle Argoth was determined to make him a full member of the clan, wrist tattoo and all.

“Are you spying?” asked the bailiff.

“Zu,” said Talen, “I mean no disrespect, but what would the purpose of such spying be? I have no idea what this is about.”

“Don’t feign ignorance,” the Fir-Noy growled.

“I am what you see,” Talen said to the bailiff. “Nothing more.”

“He’s lying,” said the Fir-Noy. “Take him and press the truth out.”

The bailiff turned to the Fir-Noy. “This is Shoka land, not Fir-Noy. Your news has caused trouble enough. I won’t let it bring murder to my fields.”

“Killing a Koramite isn’t murder.”

“It is here,” the bailiff said.

The Fir-Noy licked his fat lips and shook his head in disgust, but he made no reply.

Talen addressed the bailiff. “You know my family. Surely, you can’t think I am one of them.”

“I can think anything I want,” said the bailiff. “I stake my reputation vouching for you and your people. But your actions have begun to stain me.”

“No, Zu. Not mine. We carry no stain.” The bailiff knew him. Da had given his boy a foundling wildcat. He’d taught the bailiff himself a better way of drawing his bow. And, in return, the bailiff had invited Da on many a hunt. Surely, the bailiff’s vision would not be clouded with Fir-Noy rubbish.

The bailiff looked at Talen as if he were weighing him.

“I find no cause to accuse this boy,” the bailiff finally said. “Not today.”

Talen bowed in gratitude. “Zu, you are clear-sighted and wise.”

“Then prove me right. Packs of bounty hunters will begin to stalk these woods. But if a Koramite were to bring the hatchlings in, that would say something, wouldn’t it.”

“Yes,” said the Fir-Noy. “It will say that Koramites, like crows, feed on the carrion of their own kind. It proves nothing.”

Anger flashed up in Talen. Fir-Noy did nothing but pick and feed on the work of others. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help himself. The words were leaping out before he knew what he was saying.

“Well, Zu,” said Talen, “at least we’re willing to make something useful of our carrion; it appears the Fir-Noy simply let theirs parade about full of maggots and stink.”

Anger flushed the Fir-Noy’s face, and he kicked his horse forward to get at Talen.

Talen cringed, but the bailiff grabbed the Fir-Noy’s reins and pulled the horse up short.

“He’ll take that back!” said the Fir-Noy. “I won’t stand for this, Shoka land or no.”

The bailiff turned to Talen. “This is the last time you can expect protection from your own stupidity. Apologize!”

“Yes,” said Talen. “Of course.” He faced the Fir-Noy and stood as tall as he could muster. “Zu, I’ve been knocked half out of my mind. I apologize. Such untruths are only given voice by fools.”

“Rot,” said the Fir-Noy. Then he wrenched the reins away from the bailiff. “Your territory lord will hear about this.”

“I have no doubt,” said the bailiff.

The bailiff turned to Talen, his pale eyes sending a trembling up Talen’s back. “There’s going to come a time, Talen, when there will be no one to hold such men back. And the Koramites will be purged. It might be already too late. Now, you tell your da I expect him to order the Koramites in my district. I expect assurances. And know this: we’ll be picking over every rock and stone. And by the Goat King’s hairy arse, we’ll make no distinction between those who harbor hatchlings and those who practice the abominable arts. Now go.”

Talen nodded. “Thank you, Zu.” He began to walk back down the slope. “Excuse me,” he said, trying to get past two of the men to go back to the bridge to fetch his cart.

“Where are you going?” the bailiff demanded.

“Zu?” asked Talen.

“I just gave you an order.”

Talen paused. He could see no sympathy on the faces of the men. He wasn’t stupid, but at the moment he felt very much like a dunce. Then he realized there would be no picking up his cart and baskets.

“Directly home,” said Talen, changing his course. “That’s where I’m going.”

The bailiff only looked at him with those pale eyes.

Talen walked across the field toward the trail. He hurt all over. But he could walk. He could breathe. And that was something to be thankful for. He remembered the peppercorns and felt to make sure bag was still hanging from his neck. He hadn’t lost those, yet another thing to be thankful for.

As he departed he heard the bailiff lecturing his men, but he was so rattled he couldn’t focus on what the man was saying.

Talen crossed the fence and began to follow the trail. He looked at the wood in front of him. The hatchlings had been seen in this district. And where would hatchlings hide?

They wouldn’t be here. Not right here. Of all the miles upon miles of woodland available, why would the Sleth hatchlings choose this little section of the district right here in front of him? The chances were so remote that it wasn’t worth thinking about. But his heart wasn’t listening to his mind. It was said Sleth needed to feed often on the Fire of other men. And a lone stripling walking in the cover of a thick wood was a perfect target.

Furthermore, Sleth never came alone. There was always a big nest of them. So it was likely there were more than this one family, which meant there were probably adults, full of the dark art, looking for those hatchlings as well.

And even if the Sleth didn’t find him, then there were the bounty hunters the bailiff had mentioned. Only the fiercest of men took it upon themselves to hunt Sleth. And because these Sleth had been found among Koramites, the hunters would suspect every Koramite they came across, and he did not want to fall into their hands for questioning.